


If You Don't Get In Here I Will Literally Kill You

by DaisyFairy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Boys Kissing, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Happy Ending, I promise, I'm Bad At Titles, Just realised how many tears, Lots of tears, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not all sad tears though, Only in relation to the bad BDSM etiquette, Possible Non-Con Elements, Sad Sherlock, Scared Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7011352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/pseuds/DaisyFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Mycroft said, sex (or at least some types of sex) alarms Sherlock. John and Sherlock are just friends. So what will happen when he comes home to find John handcuffed to the bed wearing a cock ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Don't Get In Here I Will Literally Kill You

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I'm supposed to be writing the next chapter for "This is Wrong", but it is proving really hard, and this popped into my head.

Sherlock bounds up the stairs to 221B with excitement. He is clutching a bag of fingers from Molly in one hand, and tucked under his arm is a box containing a brand new chefs' blow torch.

Entering the flat he calls out "John? Are you home? I thought we could get some Thai before I start my experiment."

Sherlock hears John answer from his room upstairs "Sherlock! Please help me." His voice is ragged and he sounds short of breath, as if he has been shouting for hours and is in pain.

All thoughts of his experiment forgotten Sherlock drops his packages and sprints up the second flight of stairs. He bursts into John's room ready to help his friend, but the sight in front of him stops him in his tracks. John is lying naked on his bed with his incredibly erect penis lying heavily on his stomach, the head a rosy pink colour and leaking pre come. Sherlock steps back out of the room and slams the door behind him.

John calls in a voice that sounds very much like a sob "Sherlock!" Then more angrily, but still breathless "If you don't get in here I will literally kill you."

Sherlock tentatively opens the door and puts his head in with his eyes closed. 

John actually does sob, in relief this time, and cries weakly "Please, you need to help me.. Oh God.. Please."

Sherlock opens his eyes and dares to look again at John. This time he notices some things that he had missed before in his shock at seeing John's naked body. The most obvious is that he is firmly handcuffed to the sturdy iron headboard of his bed. His eyes raking over John's naked form also take in a cock ring fitted snuggly to the base of his shaft, and a curious buzzing sound emanating from the bed. He is finding it hard to think, can't understand what is happening. Had John got himself into this position in anticipation of Sherlock coming and finding him, expecting him to partake in some form of sexual activity. He had been a lot later back from the morgue than expected, perhaps that is why John is so agitated.

"Sherlock!" John pants, snapping him out of his reverie. "Oh, fuck. Please!"

Sherlock's eyes widen, what does John want him to do? "I'm.. I'm not sure John. What.. What should I do?" He asks, stumbling over the words.

"Fuck! Fuck.. Just.. Oh.. Just undo the handcuffs." John pants with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Sherlock swallows trying to clear an uncomfortable lump that had formed in his throat. He moves towards the head of the bed then spots a key for the cuffs lying just out of John's reach on the mattress. Sherlock decides that John must have cuffed himself then dropped the key, either intentionally or by accident. He reaches out with shaking hands and frees John's wrists.

As soon as he is free John reaches down and unsnaps the cock ring, instantly hot white come shoots out of him and he is practically screaming with his release. Sherlock stands by the bed in shock, barely able to breathe.

John then reaches between his buttocks and grunting in discomfort pulls out a large purple vibrating dildo.

Sherlock makes an undignified squeak and flees from the room in terror, leaving John to collapse back onto his bed covered in sweat, tears and his own come.

Downstairs Sherlock begins to pace wildly, clutching at his hair and with tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He had been fantasising about sex with John for months, but he had always dreamed of it being soft, tender, with John easing him gently into a sexual relationship. John would understand that he is inexperienced, (only ever having had half remembered couplings whilst high), and would be kind and patient with him if he hesitated or was unsure of what he was supposed to be doing.

That illusion was now shattered. John's plan had obviously gone wrong, but if Sherlock had returned earlier when John had not been so desperate, what was he supposed to do? Would John have wanted Sherlock to fuck him with that huge dildo? Would he have wanted to use it on Sherlock? If this is John's idea of a first time, how extreme would he want things to be in a few weeks? A month? Would there be pain? Or humiliation? Would John want to participate in partner sharing? He begins to cry as more and more extreme scenarios played out in his mind. He loves John and wants sex with him, there is no doubt about that, but he had assumed that it was hopeless so had tried to ignore the inappropriate feelings apart from when he was in the privacy of his own bed. Now though, knowing what a sexual relationship with John would be like he feels he is torn in two. He wants it so desperately, but the thought of having that kind of sex, of how far John will want to push him is terrifying.

Ten minutes later John stumbles down the stairs. He has obviously wiped himself down and had pulled on some sweat pants and a dressing gown, but he still looks thoroughly debauched. His face is red and shining with sweat, his hair is wild and he is extremely unsteady on his feet. Sherlock watches him enter the room, but as soon as John opens his mouth he says "I can't. I'm sorry John, I can't talk about this now. I need to think." And practically runs to his room.

John calls after him, his voice still hoarse "Sherlock! I'm sorry to shock you. Are you crying?" But gives up trying to talk to his flatmate when the bedroom door slams. 

Sherlock can hear John in the kitchen, hears the click of the kettle switch and the quiet noises of his friend making tea. He smiles to himself when he hears two mugs being placed into the worktop, but can't bear the thought of seeing John again right now so stays locked away.

Sherlock spends the next half hour torturing himself in his room. Trying desperately to think of a way to be with John. He is coming to the conclusion that if he wants John (and he does, oh how desperately he does) he will have to go along with what John wants, however uncomfortable it makes him, in the hope that just sometimes he can have the gentle loving sex that he craves.

The sound of the flat door opening drags him back to the present. Momentarily he thinks that John is leaving, but then he hears a woman's voice saying "What are you doing down here? You were supposed to be waiting for me on your bed."

Sherlock presses his ear to the door to listen.

John's voice in response is angry, but slightly raspy, his throat still raw from shouting for rescue earlier "What the fuck did you think you were doing? You have been gone for nearly three hours. How could you leave me like that?"

Sherlock stumbles away from the door in shock, he had misunderstood the entire situation. He feels even worse now, not only does John enjoy rough scary sex (although not being left for hours apparently), but he was not trying to offer himself to Sherlock at all. All of this flicks through his mind in a second and he manages to catch the woman's response.  
"I told you I was going." She replies petulantly.

Sherlock returns to the door to hear more clearly, whilst tears drip off of his chin onto his shirt.

"I thought you meant you were going downstairs, for ten minutes or so. Not three fucking hours. I was in agony." John barks.

"My last boyfriend used to like it." She answers in a wheedling tone.

John snaps back angrily "You cannot do that to someone without asking them first. What fucking use is a safe word if you aren't fucking there to hear it?"

"I'm sorry. But it's all ok now though. Lets go back upstairs and carry on where we left off." She says in a low tone which is probably meant to be seductive.

Sherlock screws his eyes up tight, he doesn't want John to take her upstairs, he can't bear the thought of them copulating in the room directly above his own. He gasps in relief when he hears John snap back.

"No! Give me my keys. Now get out, I never want to see you again."

"John.." She starts, obviously trying to convince him to let her stay.

"No!"

The door slams and Sherlock goes to sit on his bed. A few minutes later there is a gentle knock on Sherlock's door.

"Sherlock? Can I come in?"

Sherlock does not dare to answer.

Twenty seconds later John says "Please? Sherlock."

Sherlock goes and opens the door a crack, then retreats to sit on his bed again. John slowly comes in and stands in front of the bed looking embarrassed. Sherlock reaches over and pulls the wooden chair from his desk out in a silent invitation for John to sit. John gives a tiny smile then sits gingerly on the hard chair.

John licks his lips and says "Did you hear us arguing?" Sherlock nods. "So you know what happened?" Another nod. John licks his lips again. "I'm so sorry. That must have been horrible for you finding me like that, I know you don't like sex."

Sherlock looks up at John, what is he supposed to say? He just stares wide eyed at his friend.

John leans forward, his forearms resting on his knees "She wasn't supposed to leave me like that. Thank you for your help, I was in a lot of pain."

Sherlock nods in acknowledgment of the thanks. Then words spill from his mouth without his permission "I thought you were waiting for me, that you wanted to have sex with me." As soon as they are out he regrets it and looks down at his lap embarrassed.

John gasps and replies "Oh, no. I would never do that to you. I know you are asexual, it wouldn't be fair to ask that of you."

Sherlock looks up sharply and corrects him "I'm not asexual, I'm gay. I...I don't have much experience though."

"You're gay?" John replies in surprise.

"Um. Yes. Um.. Sorry, I don't know what else to say."

John studies Sherlock's face again. "You've been crying. But if it isn't because you are repulsed by sex, why?"

Sherlock returns his gaze to his lap and just shakes his head, trying to shake off the question.

"Sherlock. Do you like me?" John asks gently.

"Obviously." Sherlock snaps back.

"I mean, really like me. More than friends?"

Sherlock takes a shuddering breath and nods once slowly.

John stands and moved closer, then sits next to Sherlock on the bed, almost touching, but not quite.

"Sherlock, please tell me why you were crying."

Sherlock bites his lip and turns his head to look at John.

John reaches out and lays his hand on Sherlock's shoulder to reassure him.

"I like you more than friends too, if that helps." John whispers.

Sherlock takes a deep breath then says "I thought you wanted me, but I was scared because there were handcuffs and sex toys and...I don't think I want to do things like that."

John smiles at him gently and moves his hand from Sherlock's shoulder to cup his cheek. He nods to indicate that Sherlock should continue.

"Then I heard that it wasn't for me at all. You were with a woman, again, and that made me feel.. unhappy."

John pats his cheek and says "I guess its my turn for embarrassing confessions. It's been you, all about you, for a long time. Those women, that was me distracting myself, because I thought you weren't interested."

A small butterfly of hope flutters in Sherlock's chest.

John continues "Am I understanding you? You do want a relationship with me?"

Sherlock nods, then adds "I..I can do those things if you want, just.. John, please, can it sometimes be.. nice. I mean.. gentle?"

John smiles and leans forward pressing his lips into a chaste kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

"Oh, love. I do sometimes like it a bit.. rougher I suppose you could say. But with you it can always be gentle if that is what you need. I don't need handcuffs or dildos or cock rings if you don't want that, what I really want is you."

Sherlock's lips tug into a smile, and hot tears burn his eyes. He bites his lip and begins to tremble.

John moves his thumb over Sherlock's cheek to wipe away a tear, then shuffles closer on the bed and pulls his friend into a hug with Sherlock's head resting on his shoulder. He runs one hand up and down Sherlock's back slowly, while the other rests on Sherlock's hip. He whispers into Sherlock's ear "I think I love you. We can take this as slowly as you want, and we never have to do anything that you don't want."

Sherlock lets out a sob and puts his arms around John, tightening to pull him closer. "I love you John. Please.." He trails of and shakes his head slowly from side to side.

"What do you need sweetheart?" John asks gently, the term of endearment coming from nowhere but seeming so fitting now that he can see this vulnerable side of Sherlock.

"I want you. I don't know what I want, but I want more."

"Ok. That's good." John says, he pulls back slightly and lifts Sherlock's head slightly with one hand so that he can kiss his lips. It starts as a gentle, closed mouth kiss, but both men are eager so John follows Sherlock's lead and the kiss deepens, their lips parting and tongues gently flicking against one another.

Suddenly Sherlock breaks the kiss and pulls away panting.

"It's ok. We can stop if you want" John reassures him.

"No. I..I want us to make love."

John smiles widely, then looking at Sherlock notices a bulge in his trousers. "I don't think I can right now love, after.. earlier, I don't think I'm going to be able to until the morning."

Sherlock's face drops a little, but he quickly puts up a mask to cover his disappointment.

"No, no." John chides gently "No hiding, we have done enough of that. Just because I can't get off doesn't mean we can't do anything." He reaches out and begins undoing Sherlock's shirt buttons.

Sherlock shudders in anticipation and begins helping John with the shirt. Between gentle kisses they soon have both of them bare chested and John begins on the fastening in Sherlock's trousers. "Is this okay?" He asks.

Sherlock nods and kisses the crown of John's head, then lifts himself off the bed to enable John to pull his trousers and underwear down. He then leans down to completely remove them and his socks. He sits back up and finds himself covering his groin with his hands, feeling too self conscious at his nakedness.

John smiles and then swiftly stands to remove his remaining clothing, returning to sit on the bed completely naked, Sherlock's gaze is dragged to John's cock, it is only semi hard, and from what John had said unlikely to be erect until the morning, but to Sherlock it is perfect. He reaches out tentatively to touch and John gasps in surprise, his cock twitching slightly. "Oh, love. It's definitely interested, but I'm sorry, I'm not a teenager any more and that was a massive orgasm I had earlier."

Sherlock pulls away and curls into himself a little. John tugs him back "What is it?"

"I don't like thinking about that, she did that, she gave you that."

"I am going to think of it that it was you. I was thinking of you when she put that dildo into me, and it was you that let me remove that bloody cock ring so that I could come. Now, let me give that you, if that's ok."

The smile returns to Sherlock's face and he allows John to position him so that he is lying flat on his back on the bed, his head on the pillow, with John lying on his side next to him. John nuzzles into his neck gently kissing and sucking at the skin. Sherlock finds himself tilting his head away to give John more access.

John reaches out to enclose Sherlock's hard cock in his hand. Sherlock's breath hitches and he stiffens in shock.

John stops kissing Sherlock just enough to murmur into his ear "It's ok love, I've got you. If you need to stop just tell me."

Sherlock takes a deep calming breath and relaxes, he brings his hand up to caress John's cheek.

John begins to stroke Sherlock slowly, his touch firm but not rough, and his movements aided by lubrication from the pre come leaking from the glans.

Sherlock cries out softly and his hands clutch at the sheets beneath him. As John's movements speed up his hips begin to thrust up into the warm friction of his fist. It is only a few minutes before Sherlock is writhing in desperation and quietly murmuring over and over "John, John, yes, John."

John smiles and continues his worship of his lover, moving down to kiss his chest and softly lick his nipple causing Sherlock to whimper. He begins swiping his thumb over Sherlock's glans on every stroke and whispers "Let go love, you don't need to hold on for me." 

At these words Sherlock arches his back and with a loud shout of John's name releases his seed, spurt after spurt shooting over his stomach. He has tears in his eyes and releases a sob as he finishes.

John kisses him softly and says "I'll be right back, I promise." He rises swiftly and fetches a damp cloth from the bathroom. On his return he smiles at the man in the bed, panting and looking completely undone. He cleans Sherlock up and drops the cloth on the floor, then urges Sherlock to move so that they both slip under the sheets. Sherlock seems totally exhausted and to not know what to do with himself. John arranges him on his side, then presses close behind him, John's chest to Sherlock's back, and reaches around to pull him close.

"I love you Sherlock. You can sleep now." He whispers into the detective's ear, then settles his head on the pillow and drifts to sleep still nuzzling lazy kisses onto Sherlock's back.

Sherlock stays awake a few minutes more, enjoying being embraced in a way he never had been before. He marvels at how perfect this is, he could not have wished for a more lovely ending to the night. He worries a little at how sentimental he has been this evening, how he has cried and allowed all of his emotions out, but then smiles as he realises that what he really did was show John his heart, and that it had been accepted and welcomed, and loved.


End file.
